This is a poem I found in the drafts folder of my email from around about this time last year. It’s weird how things change is a year. I must have been in a really bad mood on this day. But now I can look back and laugh at it…
It’s not ok when you don’t answer the phone?
Did you even make it home?
You miss my call, but that’s ok
We never really have much to say
Can’t sleep if you don’t say goodnight
There’s a thin line between worry and fright
But if I didn’t answer straight away
I’m sure you’d have something to say
The next time I picture your death
Dream of you taking that final breath
I’ll know you’re really safe at home
You just can’t be bothered
To pick up your phone…